HetaliaTLD Crossover- Bleak Circumstances
by spartasyncrasy
Summary: In a crossover of Hetalia and a very interesting survival game called The Long Dark, Romano is unexpectedly thrown into a fight for his survival in the harsh Canadian wilderness in the middle of winter. Warning: At times, it will have graphic violence and strong language (obviously). APH belongs to Himaruya. TLD belongs to Hinterland Games.
1. Chapter 1- Bad Luck

**Author's Note:** **I'm so excited to get started on my first fanfiction story here. cx Leave a review if you'd like. The next chapters should be longer. This sprang from an idea for a TLD crossover, as I really wanted to write a kind of story to it. A friend suggested I use Romano as the main character, so voila, here you go! Also inspired by stacyplays's playthrough of TLD, which is really great, by the way. Perhaps check it out, or play the game yourself?**

When the dark-haired Italian finally came to, he found himself laying limp, and he was suddenly aware of the fact that it was very dark and very cold. He was barely able to make out the metal wreckage around him, hardly even visible in the near-total darkness. As he began to fully wake up, he realized he was aching all over and he groaned slightly, slowly pushing himself to his feet. Romano knew it would hurt a lot worse had he not been practically freezing. Where the hell was he, even? He didn't recognize his surroundings at all. Of course, the pitch black veil of night didn't help much. Were those trees all around him?

Realization hit him like a punch to the stomach.

The plane. He had been in the plane on the way to the next world meeting... He could vaguely remember the sudden tone of fear in the pilot's voice, the odd grinding of gears in the plane motor that Romano just knew couldn't be good. He hadn't even had the time to yell before the plane stalled and went down amongst a cloud of smoke. But it had been the late evening then, hadn't it? The sun was just going down over the horizon a little while ago, wasn't it? How long had he been out?

With a shudder, he looked around. A thick blanket of snow lay in all directions, and a breeze was sweeping past, sometimes threatening to increase to a full-on wind that would blow the snow into furious droves. Oh, man, this really couldn't be good. Assuming that by where they had been around the time of the crash, he was out in the Canadian wilderness, smack in the middle of winter. This _really_ wasn't good at all. His teeth chattered a bit as he turned back to the plane. The front of it was totaled- he knew that there was no way the pilot had survived that much of a crunch, and Romano was actually glad it was too dark to be able to see whatever was there. Perhaps a broken limb, or blood. There was probably lots of blood...

Squeezing his eyes shut, he turned away from it again. A curse left his mouth as he checked his pockets for his phone, only to find it wasn't there. How the hell was he going to get out of this? The meeting was tomorrow, and surely _someone_ would notice him missing, if he could survive out here that long? He could really only think of two that would maybe even notice. Or maybe Canada would be able to tell he was in his country?

"D-dammit," he growled, pulling his coat around his shoulders tightly. "It's fucking freezing out here." Romano searched the nearby pieces of mangled plane for anything useful, thinking that a warmer coat in particular would be very nice. All he found was a single flare. With a disappointed grimace, he stuck it in his pocket. A flare wouldn't even provide him with any warmth, and it wouldn't last very long, either. He figured he should probably save it, even though the forest around him was too dark to see clearly. With a shaky sigh, he picked a direction and began to move off, stumbling through the snow.

A far off howl sounded behind him, echoing off of what Romano assumed was some sort of valley, or gorge wall maybe. Oh _no_. No no no this was really, really bad now. His breath catching in his throat, he hurried his steps. A run-in with a wolf would surely leave him dead. Although while trying to put as much distance as he could between the wold and him, he wasn't focusing well on where he was walking.

"Shit-!" He never even saw the steep hill before him until he tripped over the edge, landing hard at the bottom. Romano let out a hiss, clutching at his ankle for a few moments, biting back a few tears at the corners of his eyes. He had hit a few jagged rocks during his tumble, but his ankle- that was most definitely sprained. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Forcing himself painfully to his feet, he pulled out the flare and lit it, watching the red-colored flames burst to life at the tip of it. At least there was enough light from it to see about seven or so feet away from him. Putting most of his weight on his uninjured left foot, he continued to limp in the direction he had been heading.

Another howl, this one seeming much close and somewhere off to his right. His eyes wide, Romano quickened his pace, ignoring the sharp, painful retort his sprained ankle was giving him with every step. Looking back, he thought he could see the distant gleam of eyes among the trees, but he shook his head and tried to tell himself it was just his imagination. He thought he could see a lake up ahead, anyway, and what seemed like ice fishing huts scattered about it. Now, if he could just make it to one of those...

A growl to his right. He whirled, holding the flare out threateningly. The eyes he had thought he'd seen earlier glinted, yellow and shifty, as the dark-furred wolf danced away from the edge of the flare. It eyed the Italian languidly as it skirted around the circle of light that the flare gave off, pacing patiently and deliberately.

Oh, god. This was it, wasn't it? He was going to die, and it was going to be out here all alone in the middle of the snowy night because of his carelessness and bad luck, and no one would ever find him. At least not until summer, anyways. Whatever the wolf left of him would probably be buried under snow. Would anyone even look for him? Most of the nations likely wouldn't care, or even notice. Romano was snapped back to his thoughts as the wolf took a cautious step towards him.

"Get t-the fuck back, you bastard!" He instinctively threw the flare at it, and the lit baton hit the wolf square on the muzzle. It yelped, jumping back and pawing at its nose before retreating, tail tucked between its legs. "That's right, dammit. And don't come back." The Italian was breathing quickly and heavily, and he immediately turned tail and half-limped, half-ran towards the nearest ice fishing hut out on the frozen lake. The wolf would probably be back soon, and he didn't want to be anywhere near it when it did. Staggering towards the hut, he lost footing on the ice and came crashing to his stomach. He held his breath, listening carefully. He didn't know how thin the ice was, and wanted to make sure he wouldn't hear any cracking. After a few, painstakingly slow moments worth of silence, he deemed it safe enough. His ankle hurt really badly now, though, and he resorted to pulling himself the last few feet inside of the open hut. Once he had, he leaned against the wall. It wasn't much warmer, seeing as there wasn't a door, but at least the cold of the wind couldn't bite at his face and chill him to the bone.

Freezing to death wasn't a much better fate than a fatal wolf attack, but all he could do was hope that he could survive out here long enough for anyone to notice his absence. Who knew, maybe his brother would happen to look over and see that he wasn't there at tomorrow's meeting. Maybe Spain would suspect something wasn't quite right upon noticing Romano hadn't shown up. The most he could do for now was curl up against the wall, shivering as he fought back tears and tried to ignore the hopelessness of the situation he was in.


	2. Chapter 2- Troubled Mind

Dark.

That's all he could see in all directions, barely able to see the outlines of trees that went on as far as he could see. The wind was picking up, the snow swirling from gentle eddies into freezing, harsh gusts that nipped at him, made his limbs and face feel numb.

There was a loud bark directly behind him, and with no further thought he took off, running blindly through the fir branches that whipped his face as he pushed past them, trying to get away from the deadly wolf that he knew was right on his heels. It was so close he could hear its excited breaths as it slowly gained on him. Romano knew he couldn't keep this up forever, and the wolf knew it, too. He could sense its deathly glare fixed on him, could feel its hot breath on his ankles, could hear the soft crunch of the snow that was packed underfoot of the ruthless creature that was _right behind him._ He wasn't going to make it. There was nowhere safe in sight, and surely he would get tired way before the wolf would.

With a few more panicked breaths and frantic footfalls, Romano hoped that his brother wouldn't be the one to find his half-eaten body. Veneziano was too soft hearted for something like that. One last stumble, and Romano turned to face his pursuer with clenched fists. The wolf, sensing his prey's surrender, slowed to a dignified trot. Romano kept his own wide, olive green eyes on the dark silhouette with burning yellow orbs.

Lowering its head, eyes and white fangs flashing, it pounced.

The light of dawn was just beginning to seep through the boards of the ice hut as Romano woke with a start. Was he dead? Glancing around, still half-asleep as he looked for the lantern-like gold eyes that he expected to find, he frowned. 'Morning, huh? So it was a dream, then.' He thought to himself, thinking it was a wonder he could even sleep with the temperature so cold. Shifting, he winced as a jolt of pain shot up from his ankle- an unwelcome reminder that he had sprained it the night before. He let out a long sigh, his breath clouding in the frigid air in front of him. In just half an hour or so, the other countries would be gathering in Quebec for the world meeting. Trying to convince himself that someone was bound to notice he wasn't there, he got to his feet using a small cabinet he hadn't realized was there the night before. Maybe something useful would be in the drawers? Immediately searching the first one, he was rather disappointed to find there wasn't anything in it. Blearily, he pulled open the bottom drawer.

A relieved sort of gasp escaped his throat as he spotted the winter coat inside, as well as a granola bar. It wasn't much, but it was _something_. He was only just registering how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten right before or during the plane trip, deciding it would just be easier to get food when he arrived. Now, he was really wishing he had just gone ahead and ate something. At least the granola bar would help. Some water would certainly be nice, and he supposed he could melt some snow, but he had nothing to start a fire with. Sure, there was a small stove off in the corner of the ice hut, but there was a lack of firewood or matches. Biting the inside of his cheek, he pulled on the winter coat, glad to at least be warmer. He opened the granola with trembling fingers, quickly eating it. That would be able to hold him over until he was able to find something else. Probably.

Shooting a resentful glare out at the ice covered lake, he grumbled to himself before walking out of the ice hut. The ice looked pretty solid here, which was good. His luck had been terrible so far, but not so bad as to send him into a fatal plunge in icy waters. He didn't want to play his chances by walking out too far from land, though. That would be a dangerous move.

There were cabins scattered about the shore of the lake, some of them not too far. If only he had been able to see those last night. Setting off at a slow limp, he made his way towards them. The weather was pleasant this morning, unlike in his dream, and instead of perilously cold gales freezing him, the air was still and crisp. The sun had crawled past the horizon line, peering over the mountaintops, and the pale, drowsy rays were only just beginning to reach the lake. It definitely wasn't warm enough to melt the ice, Romano decided with a small sigh of relief.

He had gotten to the edge of the lake by the time the sun had managed to rise over the distant mountains, and he hurried over to the first of the cabins and went inside.

The air was warmer inside the cabin, and Romano was thankful to see that there were cabinets in here, too, as well as beds. He certainly determined that he wasn't going to be sleeping in any more ice fishing huts with these around. Sitting down on one of the beds, he tried to quickly come up with some sort of plan. Mumbling to himself, he glanced about. "Maybe...maybe I should look through all the cabins before I do anything else...But I also hardly got any sleep last night...-Dammit, I don't know what to do. I've never expected getting into something so fucking stupid as this...It's all just so-...f-fuck, I don't-..." He had to take a couple deep breaths to calm down. Eventually, he decided that raiding the cabins seemed like a better idea. Plus, he was still hungry.

His search resulted in two cans of sardines, better boots, a prybar, some firelogs, newsprint, a few rounds of rifle ammunition, and a hunting knife. He wasn't sure why he was hanging onto the rifle ammo when he didn't even have a rifle in the first place, but figured he might as well take whatever he can find. It was the afternoon once he brought it all back to the first cabin, uneasily glancing behind him at the wolf prowling about the far side of the lake as he closed the door behind him. Well, he definitely wasn't going to be heading that way. He'd grimaced when he found the sardines- they really weren't something he would choose to eat normally, but these circumstances were far from normal, and he wasn't going to be the kind of dumbass to leave valuable food behind.

Although, perhaps he would be able to hit the other, nearby cabin just a couple hundred feet to the right of these ones? The Italian decided to take his chances for once. Leaving some of the items in the cabin he was using as a base, such as the firelogs and ammo, he pushed open the door again, heading out into what looked like the beginnings of a snowstorm. He would have to hurry. Rushing into the snow, he made his way through the decreasing visibility towards the cabin. He trudged to the porch and swiftly went in to rummage through the cabinets. 'Let there be water here somewhere, please, please, please...' Nothing. One of the drawers only yielded water purification tablets, which would really only be fucking useful if he had some fucking water in the first place. Clicking his tongue, he brought them along as he went out once more.

The wind was getting stronger, for sure. It stung his face as he pushed on against the headwind, barely able to see his base cabin in the small blizzard. Of course, this also meant he could barely see where he was going, too. Slipping on the edge of the bank, he toppled to the ground. That wasn't what perturbed him so much as the skeleton laying right there next to him.

Letting out a startled shriek, Romano immediately scooched backwards. A real human skeleton, strewn across the ground right by him, empty eye sockets staring back vacantly. Scrambling to his feet, he backed up slowly before turning to run towards the base cabin, pure adrenaline dulling the effect of his sprained ankle hitting the ground every two steps.

Throwing open the door, he collapsed onto the bed nearby after pulling his boots off and leaving the newer ones by the bed. It wasn't like he was planning on going anywhere with that blizzard outside. Better to just rest and hope it would be gone by the next morning. He couldn't, however, shake the image of the skull from his mind. That person had died right near the doorstep of the other cabin. Romano had a sinking feeling that he would never make it out of this alive.


End file.
